I Thought It Was Strange You Said Everything Changed

Summary: After the events of the Clovis arc (season six, episodes 15-17), Anakin and Padme reconcile. Credit for this idea goes largely to Sarah; I'm just writing it down. Title comes from the song "First Day of My Life," by Bright Eyes. Rated a soft R for lukewarmly-described sexytimes, and warning for vaguely dubious consent on Padme's part.

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**I Thought It Was Strange You Said Everything Changed**

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Padme is contrite after Scipio, wilting and demure, and even though Anakin knows he shouldn't feed on her weakened, weeping energy - that, in fact, his demand for its appearance was largely what got them into this mess in the first place - if he's honest with himself, it's the headiest of aphrodisiacs.

That same night, he follows her back to her private quarters in 500 Republica, an unspoken agreement that this voids Padme's proposed 'break.' A pang of guilt washes over Anakin as the state of her rooms is revealed to contain the same upturned furniture as it did after Anakin's brutal fist-fight with Clovis. He watches from the doorway as Padme begins to collect smaller articles littering the floor, her movements skittish, as if the ghost of recent events still haunts her. Bending, Anakin picks up a discarded chair and rights it, with his own strength rather than by using the Force; it is yet another silent compromise, an attempt to right the wrongs that have transpired recently between them.

Once Padme's rooms are presentable, they're at a bit of a standstill; privately, Anakin wants nothing more than to cross the distance between them in long, purposed strides and crush Padme to him, to feel her small frame tremble in his arms, her bare flesh quiver beneath his hands - even his mechanical arm is capable of sensory deprivation when it comes to Padme. Still, he lets her control the speed of their encounter, though he eyes her with an appreciative smolder as she reaches up, slightly uncertain, and plucks the clip holding her hair in place from where it's nestled. Soft, auburn waves tumble far past her shoulders. "Help me with my dress?" she asks, not quite seductive, but it amounts to the same thing in Anakin's mind.

"Of course." Deftly, he unfastens her gown, watches the rich fabric slide past her shoulders, down her back; he places a hand on her hip as softly as he can muster while nonetheless encouraging her to face him. "Ani," she murmurs, and he cradles her the way one might hold a delicate figurine. Her heart is beating more rapidly than usual, and Anakin can sense several emotions radiating from his normally placid wife: Fear, frustration, sadness, even a hint of desire. 'Well, good.'

"Padme," he responds finally, and begins kissing her, gently at first, rubbing his lips against hers, and then brushing her chin and cheeks and throat with his mouth. One hand holding the small of her back, he unfastens her brassiere with the other, and smiles against the side of Padme's face when she lets out a soft moan. Taking it as approval, he moves down to her chest, flicking her rapidly hardening nipples with his fingertips, and then, cupping her pert breasts, suckling at them gently. A slight nip makes her yelp outright, and then, not to ruin the moment entirely, straightens and steers her towards the large, raised bed.

More clothing is removed; it's not an attempt at seduction, merely a perfunctory process necessary for what's to come, but it's enough for Anakin. Soon, he's stretched atop her, warm (he's always warm) and nude, and Padme lies nestled below him, precious, ensnared, possessed. "Do you love me, Padme?" he urges, their breaths mingling in the space between them; then, before she can respond, braces her with an intense stare and adds, "Do you love me even a fraction as much as I love you?"

"I love you, Anakin, with all my heart." She seems to be resisting the urge to squirm, not entirely comfortable with the position or the power play, though to her credit, she doesn't flinch away from Anakin's harsh gaze. "What can I do to prove it to you?"

Anakin doesn't respond verbally, though his lips curving into a smile and the intensified movements of his hips infer what he wants plenty well enough. He coaxes Padme's legs apart, watching with grim satisfaction as her eyes flitter about before she seems to sigh inaudibly and acquiesce to his will; he coaxes her further apart with his real hand, rubbing around until, both by feel and the loud gasp from Padme, he can tell he's found her clit. She whimpers, and he eases off, but only just to move himself into position to slide into her. This, too, is perfunctory, although Padme's fluttering eyelashes and soft cries tell him that she's not completely hating it. Fleetingly, he has visions of Rush Clovis doing this to her, touching her, as if she belongs to him; the sound of Padme's bed sheet tearing refocuses his attention. "My angel," he croons, and enters her, and Padme shifts to accommodate him, eyes wide, heart thumping loudly.

They fuck, methodically at first, and then more desperately as Anakin edges closer to orgasm. He forces himself to slow down to allow Padme her pleasure, too, but she urges him forward. "Please, keep going," she gasps, and he does, thrusting hard, feeling her legs tighten, hearing her husky grunts. In another scene, he might take this further, might wring more guttural noises from her by gently squeezing the white column of her throat, but tonight is not for play, but for reconciliation, pure and plain-faced. Tonight, he thinks as his own legs shake with impending release, is about forgiveness.

He spends himself inside of her, relishing the familiarity of her body rippling with his warmth. It takes a lot of effort not to simply slump across her once the aftershocks subside, but fortunately, she doesn't hold him to reciprocation; "it's okay, Ani," she whispers, benevolent and mincing all at once, and eventually, Anakin slides out of her, curling himself lengthwise around her soft, pale frame. He pulls the covers up over them, using the Force this time, and senses Padme's trepidation begin to ebb gently, gradually replaced by a sense of relief. 'It's okay,' he thinks as he draws her close, 'everything is going to be all right.'

He sleeps deeply, then, more so than he has in months, deeply enough not to notice the bed shifting with the removal of Padme's slight weight, the strange, new energies coursing inside of her now after their co-mingling. Nonetheless, the former Queen of Naboo opens the door to her private balcony with quiet care so as not to yet disturb her husband, and stands near the railing, letting the soft wind whip her nightgown just so around her bare legs. It's not cold out, but she feels compelled to hold her arms close to herself, protectively around her stomach. She's not sure if she'd call it intuition, or sheer paranoia and exhaustion from the emotional turmoil of the past few days, but something about this precise moment seems prescient, like all of the events as of late have led to this exact time and place for a very specific reason, poised to change everything.

She stares at the quartet of moons in the night sky for several more minutes, ruminating vaguely on their changing tides, and then goes back inside to join Anakin in a rare few moments of respite.


End file.
